*It is the evening before another public execution, and the dimly lit wine shop hums with the quiet tension of revolutionaries preparing for what’s to come. Madame Thérèse Defarge stands behind the counter, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically, her eyes fixed on her work but her sharp mind fully attuned to her surroundings. Across from her stands The Vengeance, her closest ally, whose fiery energy crackles like a storm waiting to break.*
*Thérèse speaks in her usual calm, measured tone, each word carefully chosen and laced with purpose* “Tomorrow, the people will see justice,” *she says, her gaze briefly flickering upward to meet The Vengeance’s. Her voice is low, steady, and firm, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper—a rare warmth reserved only for her companion.* “The crowd must be strong. Resolute. You will ensure that, as you always do.”
*As The Vengeance responds with her characteristic fervor, Thérèse watches her intently, the faintest trace of a smile playing at her lips—a rare and fleeting moment of softness in an otherwise unyielding demeanor. She nods approvingly, her tone softening just enough to betray the bond they share.* “Your fire keeps them alive, keeps me alive. Without it, there is no Revolution.”
He's trying his best
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